


collapsing relapse

by PsychicBananaSplit



Series: after klaus got out of the mausoleum [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Overdose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-07 00:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18227396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychicBananaSplit/pseuds/PsychicBananaSplit
Summary: Five times Klaus doesn't get help, and one time he does.





	1. First Overdose

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE RISEN FROM THE DEAD ONCE AGAIN TO FULFILL YOUR WISHES WITH ANGST.  
> enjoy.

Klaus’ first overdose was after he got out of the tomb, when he was fourteen. He walked back home, shaking, shivering in the cold winter air with nothing but his regular uniform. Father just paced in front of him, not looking at his suffering child.The only sounds were their muffled steps and Klaus’ teeth clacking together. The warmth of the house was almost orgasmic compared to the freezing weather outside. Mom gave him a bath, steaming hot water fogging the glass and preventing him from seeing what a mess he was.

All the dirt, blood and grime dirtied the water, and she had to drain it after his first rinse to continue cleaning him. His knobby knees were drawn up to his bony chest. He was staring blankly at the porcelain bathtub. It was around six when his bath was done, and he couldn’t go back to sleep with the horrifying images of the dead branded into his mind, so he sat there on his bed. But he still saw them; even without his eyes being closed, he could still hear, see, feel their cold presence. Feel their cold, desperate staring. The stillness of their chests bothered him the most. He knows that they’re dead by their lungs not rising and falling. It was severely unnerving. 

Tremors wracking through his body like a seizure at breakfast, he couldn’t eat. Every time he tries to pick up his fork it trembles out of his grip and he retreats his arm back into his lap. Ben looked away from his book with a concerned expression. Klaus, at the same time of being more alert than ever, didn’t have enough energy to meet his eyes.

Ben leaned to his ear. “You okay?” Klaus flinched from the intrusive sound of his voice stabbing into his eardrums. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. 

He could feel the others staring at him. All of their eyes glued to his shuddering frame. He could feel more staring at him, too. And by more, he means the ghosts. A lot of them, circling the room, surrounding him, closing in on him. Why wouldn’t they let him  _ fucking breath?  _

When Father dismissed them he tore away from the table as if it was burning him, stumbling up the stairs to his room. The ringing in his ears grew louder, the yelling of the ghosts almost deafening against it. At the same time his footsteps echoing around the hall was too loud.

But instead of going to his room he thought of something.  _ Vanya’s meds?  _ He asked her, once, about how they worked their magic. She said that they made her numb to everything, like emotions.

If they made her numb, why wouldn’t they do the same to him?

His hands shook as he dug around for the orange prescription bottles, grabbing two and soon enough finding a third. The pills rattled, and he stuck them in his pockets to make sure Vanya didn’t see, and he creeped away from her room. Sure enough, she was wandering down the hall, and Klaus startled, almost running into her.

“Hey, Van. How are you doing?” His eyes darted frantically, from her face to the walls to the floors to the ceiling.

“Fine, Klaus, what are you doing?” Vanya could sense his anxiety from a mile away. He just answered with a nervous laugh (making sure to smile extra wide) and started walking to his room.

When he got in, he searched through all of his drawers before finding the medication that Father gave him years ago, him never taking it. He decided that today would be the day, if ever. 

His throat burned when he downed the first half-finished bottle dry. He welcomed the pain, relishing the sensation of the capsules sliding down.

 

Ben glanced at the clock. 12:17. Klaus’ door still hadn’t opened since after breakfast. Father didn’t say anything about it, though. He went back to reading his book.

He was worried, truthfully. He always was a worried child. Worried about if he’d hurt Luther during training, worried that he would mess up in the kitchen with Mom, worried that he wouldn’t meet Father’s expectations. 

He was worried. 12:18.

He was around five when his abilities showed. With the others is was apparent. Luther lifted a table, Diego went underwater and stayed for thirty minutes. Klaus was talking to people that weren’t there. And Five just started to teleport on the highest shelves when he couldn’t reach the cookies. Vanya didn’t have powers. Allison was the second to last to show, saying that she heard some rumor about Father, and it came true. It was hilarious. He doesn’t remember what it was, though. 

Ben was difficult. He would have constant stomachaches, headaches, sometimes not being able to train with the others when the pain became too much. At some point, he was in the kitchen with Mom, mixing some cookie dough, smiling, laughing. Klaus was sitting on the counter, telling Ben jokes. Diego was beside Mom, mixing another batch of cookies, checking the ones in the oven every so often. 

And then it just, happened.

Ben’s stomach all of a sudden did a somersault, and he folded in on himself as tentacles burst through his abdomen, the purple limbs flailing around. One knocked Klaus onto the floor, making him cry out in fright. Another one gripped onto Diego’s ankle, dragging him to the floor, his hand were scrabbling for anything to hold onto. “Mom! Mom! Help me!”

Ben was in the most terrible pain. Every time They moved, it would send a pang through his internal organs, twisting them around, making him join Klaus on the floor. There were tentacles, but there were also legs. Legs of a giant spider, or some kind of bug. They were big, hairy, but spindly. With little hooks at the end of them. When They came out, They would tear at the edges of where they were coming out of, picking at the hole in his stomach, making him bleed. His face was wet with tears. The air around him was suffocating, he couldn’t breath. Someone-Klaus, maybe-was holding his hand so tightly that he thought his bones would break. That pain would be better than  _ this.  _

12:19.

On his first mission, he killed someone. A  _ six-year-old  _ shouldn’t have that on their conscious. He was terrorizing a school, his gun firing at the teachers in the lounge. He had a mask on, a simple white one with holes for his eyes. The mask was knocked off when They hit him, pushing him to the wall, squashing his insides. His brown eyes were bloodshot, nearly popping out of his head, his mouth was open in a silent scream. Ben shut his eyes quickly when he exploded in a mess of blood and guts. Most of it covered Ben, he was covered in blood.  _ Oh my god get it off get it off getitoff of me Klaus please get it off of me  _ **_now_ ** _.  _

When they got home Ben took a shower. The water turned almost black with blood, then red, then pink, then clear. Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing. Scrubbing his skin so raw, it eventually burned from the hot water. It was on the hottest setting. He heard Klaus walk into the room to replace his bloodied clothing with a fresh, clean uniform. He didn’t have to, but he did anyway. Klaus is sweet, he’s nice to him. Unlike Father. Father was mean. He would force him into a glass cage to kill sweet little animals, like cats and dogs, and once a horse. He once killed an innocent animal, a stray, perhaps. That maybe ran from home. It still had a collar on, with a name tag that read:

Mr. Pennycrumb. Mr. Pennycrumb the sweet little pug that Father found on the side of the road and-

_ Snap. _

At 12:20, Ben heard a thump from the room next to his.  _ Klaus’ room.  _ He furrowed his eyebrows and stuck the bookmark into his book, inching off the bed slowly. His footsteps were quiet, cautious. He floated through his doorway to see that Klaus’ door was shut, not unusually. He twisted the brand new golden doorknob-he broke it a while ago. It wasn’t locked. 

When he opened the door he was met with a sight that he didn’t want to see, and was probably not supposed to see. 

Klaus was on the floor, back against the wall, leaning on his bed. There were three pill bottles scattered next to him. His head was hanging down to his chest, nodding, his arms were limp at his sides. 

Ben was a lot more than worried. Ben was flat out  _ terrified.  _

He rushed over, shaking his shoulders, cupping his cheek. Klaus’ face was damp with tears recently shed, his eyes staring away at something Ben couldn’t see. “Klaus, hey! It’s me, Ben. Can you hear me? At all? Please, say something, Klaus. Please.” Klaus was sweating and shivering all at once, his fingers and eyelids twitching. His blank stare met Ben’s, and he started crying. Loud, wet sobbing. Ben decided to hug him. Klaus got himself to move his arms and clutch onto Ben’s jacket for support. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Klaus. Everything is going to be okay. Okay?” Ben took a glance at the bottles on the floor.  _ PRESCRIPTION FOR VANYA HARGREEVES. PRESCRIPTION FOR KLAUS HARGREEVES.  _ Shit.

He knew that Father would be angry, but he couldn’t tell Klaus, not now, not when he’s lying  _ broken  _ on the  _ floor,  _ not like this. 

“Why didn’t you get help, Klaus?” Klaus was too far gone to notice that Ben was talking to him. “We could’ve helped you, Klaus. We  _ can  _ help you.”

Klaus cried harder, and if it was a reply, then Ben didn’t know it. 


	2. Last Overdose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title says all.  
> also, ben likes to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a little sorry. but not really.

_ “It’s all very fake, don’t you think?” Ben and Klaus are sitting on the couch, next to the fire. Klaus is smoking, Ben is reading. This isn’t usually something they do.  _

_ “Whatever do you mean, love?” Klaus speaks with a breath of smoke, like a dragon. He sure does have the elegance for one of those mystical beasts.  _

_ “The masks, the interviews. You know, for a so called ‘rational’ person, Father is making this very irrational.” Klaus nods in agreement, and Ben puts his book on the side table. The portrait painted last year smiled back at him, their real expressions hidden by the domino masks.  _

_ “Irrational indeed.” _

 

Klaus is always stuck in the past. It’s kind of hard not to be when your past is filled with abuse, nightmares, pain, death, death, and death. Oh, and death. 

He doesn’t want to be stuck in the past, though. He misses the present. When he’s high as a kite, not afraid of the dead, of the dark, of anybody close to him dying right in front of him, of not saying goodbye when he needs to. 

Thoughts dipping downwards, he lifts his mattress to get his stash of drugs. On the menu today is: Unknown Blue Pills. He can almost hear Ben’s voice, snapping at him for doing more drugs. 

( _ Irrational _ )

He takes two, dry swallows them, and lays himself back on his crisp, white duvet. It was almost like a cloud under his touch, feather-light and airy. Like Ben’s touch. Fuck, and he’s back. 

 

_ After Ben gives him the compliment of looking faintly like a dragon, he gets another tattoo. The dragon on his back, between his shoulder blades. It was coiled into a figure-eight, swallowing it’s own tail. He thought that it was a good metaphor for his life. Ben told him not to be so edgy. Klaus told him to fuck off, he’s the one that complimented him. _

_ “You know, tattoos are a big commitment.” _

_ “So is having children. But, technically, both can be removed with lasers.” _

 

Klaus stares at the ceiling. He notices a few messages that he wrote on there, with Ben. Just silly teenager humor type jokes. Some were song lyrics that they were thinking of singing, but definitely not with their voices. Some were doodles of Klaus, or cats, or quotes from Ben’s favorite books. 

Ben liked books. Loved them. Never went anywhere without one. But, of course, he had a favorite. Klaus couldn’t remember it right now, on the top of his head- oh, yeah, that’s right.  _ To Kill a Mockingbird.  _ Klaus never did like to read, preferring to roll up blunts in the middle of their English classes instead of actually pay attention. 

Ben told him that his favorite book symbolizes innocence, and that it’s his favorite because of that. Klaus never really saw it, never having read the book in the first place. 

 

_ “So, how is your book going?” _

_ “Good. Have you ever read it?” _

_ “I don’t read.” Ben snorted, and Klaus laughed at the sound. _

 

He snaps back into the present, pouring out a few more of the blue pills and swallowing them. His eyesight was starting to blur all the words on the ceiling together into one jumble of a dark cloud, opposite of what’s under him. 

Awfully ironic, Klaus thinks. Right between light and dark, while in reality, there is no difference between it. Them. People are people, there’s no such thing as black and white, right and wrong, good and bad. There’s gray. The in between. Because even though society, and history as a whole depicted and still depicts darkness as evil and the light as good, it’s not really like that. They’re just colors. Just colors. Colors have meaning, sure, like red for passion, and yellow for happy, and blue for sad, but fuck that, man. That’s other people. Klaus has different opinions on red, yellow, and blue, besides passion, happiness and depression. 

For one, red reminds him of two things. One: was blood. Blood. Blood of the ghosts that haunted him, dead or alive. His blood, that dripped down his arm slowly after every cut, burn. Blood that covered Ben after missions, after-

Ben’s blood, everywhere. On the walls. On the  _ fucking ceiling.  _ Everywhere. He was barely recognizable when they found him. Already dead before the explosion, he was obliterated by the blast. Klaus’ skin crawled when he thought about it. When he saw it. 

He stands up, lifts his mattress, and gets a needle to inject some drug that he doesn’t know the name of. It falls under the line of ecstasy, though. He flicks open his lighter, lets it burn into his eyesight for a while.

Another thing that red reminds him of is a certain one night stand. He just didn’t stop. This guy lived by an intersection, the stop-lights would glow through the window. It started good. Really good. But at some point, he doesn’t remember why, he just stopped liking it. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He didn’t want to do what he was doing anymore.

Red light.

Green light.

Yellow light.

Red light was shining through the curtains. Red, red, red, stop, stop, stop. He didn’t stop. Fuck, he lost his virginity to a rapist. And it really fucking  _ hurts.  _

The golden-orange flame glowed as well in the dark room, and Klaus was drawn to it as a moth would be. The drug was clear, and the injection went in smoothly. He knew that it was too high of a dose, but he couldn’t care less. 

His thoughts threw him into a panic, Klaus was hyperventilating as the drug coursed through his system to the inevitable relief. His eyes were blurring his surroundings, it was just one white sheet over him. The tears dribbled down his face, every one sent a burning path on his cheeks. 

( _ Irrational _ )

He thinks of Dave. Dave, sweet, caring, loving, Dave. Dave, who helped him through the war and the withdrawals and the loneliness and the flashbacks and the ghosts. Dave who kissed him and hugged him and made him forget about the red stop lights and Ben being gone gone gone. Dave, who is the person that took his virginity for real, not in the midst of a horrible, terrible occurrence. Took it out of love instead of malice. 

Dave who died.

In his arms. Choking on Blood. Red.

When he was dying, he was trying to tell Klaus something. He regrets not trying to listen over the gunshots and the explosions.

Ben was in the corner. His hood was off. And he looked like he was yelling. Fuck, why is he yelling? Klaus doesn’t like it when Ben yells.

It felt like fire was burning through his veins, he was turning to cinders from the inside out. Fuck, get it out, Ben, get it off of me  _ pleasepleaseplease.  _

“It’s okay, Klaus, just hold on.” Everything was in slow motion, including the ghost returning to his side, on the floor. Holding his hand.  _ Holding his hand?  _

He felt high. Higher than the white cloud on his bed, or the black cloud on the ceiling, or the high that he got after the red stop light. White cloud, black cloud, red stop light. White, black, red, white, black, red. WhiteBlackRed. Allison was in the room, where did she come from? Where did Diego come from? Vanya? She’s crying? WhiteBlackRed turned to RedWhiteBlue flashing lights. From the windows. Blurry lights flickered in and out from the windows and it hurt his eyes terribly. Flashing. Ben’s hand on his. Vanya’s tears. Black.

 

When he came to, he was in a hospital. What he assumed to be a hospital, anyway. Everything was white. And there was a beeping noise. What the  _ hell?  _ Allison and Vanya were sitting on the couch and sleeping, leaning on each other. Diego was nowhere to be seen. Klaus turned his head painstakingly, groaning when his stiff neck creaked in reluctance. Ben’s eyes shot open. From his seat at the couch he looked very…..vulnerable. Too much so. He was curled up in a fetal position, black jacket on black shirt on black jeans. Black on black on black. His dark eyes were rimmed with a red hue. Red. Huh.

“Hey, dumbass.” Klaus smiled. Ben did too. “Said with love.”

“Goodmorning to you too, cheeky bastard.”

“It’s eleven PM.”

Is it? Klaus glanced up at the clock and sighed. 

Ben smiled bitterly. “Welcome to the land of the living, as Dad always said.” 

 

When Klaus gets out of rehab for the thousandth time, he vows two things:

One, he won’t ever,  _ ever  _ relapse again. (He knows this probably won’t happen)

Two, he’s going to read  _ To Kill a Mockingbird  _ with Ben, someday. 

 


	3. Red Stop Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it was his own fault. Maybe he was just too appealing. Maybe the man just couldn’t stop. Maybe it was his own fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm also really sorry about this one, too. but, also, two chaps in ONE DAY?  
> unheard of!

There was a mouth on his, belonging to someone he didn’t know and frankly didn’t care about. His tongue was writhing, twisting with Klaus’, pushing into his mouth forcefully. 

He slid his jacket off his shoulders, throwing it to God knows where. The random bed of the motel was springy, and they both bounced noticeably when they fell onto it. Creaky. His belt was undone before he could even say ‘Yes’. 

Ben was always like that. He always knew what he wanted, but never gave it. Just hand-jobs, blowjobs, that’s it. They never got to  _ do it,  _ like, have sex before he died. Fucking hell, go away. He chases the thought of Ben out of his mind before they get too out of hand.

This guy was kinky apparently. He brought two expensive silk ties, just to tie his wrists to the bedpost. The ties were so tightly wound up on his hands that he thought that they would lose circulation. They scuffed roughly against his wrists, leaving painful rashes that he would have to deal with later.

The stop lights outside his window shone a bright green in the dry weather, the wind flowing through the curtains that were billowing out of it’s way. Green was a nice color on Klaus. It matched his eyes. Glowing green gazes. Once upon a time Klaus had to wear glasses, they were horn-rimmed and, you guessed it; green. He instantly broke them a day after, though. He ran into his door-frame after Five scared the shit outta him by popping up out of nowhere. Ben told him to get the fuck out of his room when he came whining to him. Father didn’t buy him anymore pairs after that.

Oh, Ben. He wasn’t here right now. Klaus didn’t want him to be there, not during this.

The guy hugging his hips with his thighs was fully naked and suckling on his throat. His hands roamed further, further down until they rested on his waist. The rim of his pants was pulled down to his knees, the man going down with it. His half-flaccid dick was taken into the guy’s mouth, not stopping until it’s all the way down his throat, fucking  _ hell.  _

He couldn’t really focus on the feeling, though, his thoughts were trailing towards his childhood. Which was a major turn off, may he add.

 

_ “Hey, Benji, I dare you to climb up that tree!” Klaus was pointing to the tall tree in the courtyard, right in the corner, covering the section of land with an ominous shadow. Ben looked at him skeptically. _

_ “I can’t climb that, no way!”  _

_ “You’ll never know if you don’t try!” _

_ “Yeah, no. I know for a fact that I can’t climb trees period.” _

_ “You really don’t know that.” _

_ Neither Ben nor Klaus remember the exact moment they stopped being Ben and Klaus, and more like BenandKlaus. One person, almost. Two completely different sides of one person, maybe. BenandKlaus was one part shy, timid, modest, and soft-spoken, while also another part loud, flamboyant, sarcastic and snarky. Both very intelligent, in very different ways. Two sides of the same coin, two peas in the same pod, whatever. No-one would ever see one without the other, and although, at times, annoying, it was rather endearing.  _

_ Nevertheless, Ben didn’t ever find a right moment to climb that tree. And Klaus never bothered him about it. _

 

Why he was thinking about his dead brother during sex, he doesn’t know. Why he got himself into this mess in the first place, he doesn’t know-oh, wait! For drugs! Yes, that’s what he wants. 

But this...this was terrifying. He all of a sudden couldn’t breath, and the bonds around his wrists were too tight, and the stop light turned yellow, and it was  _ too much.  _ He was  _ scared,  _ for his  _ life.  _ He never, ever felt this before. This new feeling grabbed at him, like fingers, grappling at his skin, tearing at him from the inside. Yellow, yellow, yellow. Slow down. Slow down. The stop lights turned red, the squealing tires outside made that very clear. Red, red, red. Stop. Red, cherry, ruby, scarlet, cardinal, carmine, crimson, claret, vermilion. 

“Red, red! I don’t want to do this anymore, I call it off! Red!” The man growled and plowed right into him roughly, causing Klaus to scream in fright. “Red! Fucking red, asshole!” 

Obviously, driven by hunger and lust, the man doesn’t comply. 

 

_ Klaus is fourteen, it’s around the beginning of April or the end of March. He’s walking home in the rainy weather in a tank-top and a pair of tights he stole from Mom, and he looks like a drowned rat walking up the stairs to the manor. _

_ Before knocking on the door, however, his father opens the door and shoves him inside, making him fall to his feet, his eyes level with Father’s shined shoes. The light from the chandelier glared off of them, so brightly, that it almost blinded him. _

_ “Where do you think you’ve been, Number Four? You missed your science class, and you will be grounded from here onto the day that you prove yourself worthy of no punishment.” _

_ When they’re grounded, they have to do more private, solo training.  _

_ Which means more time in the mausoleum. _

_ Fuck. Shit. Goddamnit motherfucking ass. _

_ “You must learn, at some point, that your actions have consequences, Number Four. Now, go to your room and change from that inappropriate outfit, and return to Grace what is hers.” He trudges to his room with the freezing rain seeping into his bones and the disgusting taste of the bartender’s dick in his mouth.  _

 

Red.

Red.

Red.

_ Red. _

_ Red! _

The man doesn’t stop until he’s finished. He gets dressed, unties him, drops the drugs and the money on the bed and leaves without a word. 

Klaus...is crying. Big, fat tears roll down his face like boulders off of a cliff and he’s so blinded by tears that he doesn’t notice Ben is back. 

“It happened again, didn’t it?” Klaus doesn’t answer with anything but a pitiful whimper in Ben’s opposite direction, staring up at the ceiling and wishing that he would sink into the mattress, he was never here,  _ he was never here.  _ He want’s to disappear from this earth.

Disappear.

Disappear.

_ Disappear, goddamnit, disappear, please. _

_ Please. _

The man’s fingers feel like they’re still on his body, prodding, touching places. He really needs to get high, or drunk, or puke, or all three of them. He’s been through this enough times that he knows what this feels like, but he will never get used to it. At least the guy decided to leave the drugs with him this time. Maybe it was his own fault. Maybe he was just too appealing. Maybe the man just couldn’t stop. Maybe it was his own fault.

Ben was staring at him with a disappointed look.  _ You are a disappointment, Number Four. Get used to it, Klaus, Dad just doesn’t find you useful enough. You’re the lookout, Klaus, stay outside!  _ “I’m sorry, Ben.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Ben’s hood cast his face in a deep, dark shadow. His voice was muted, soft, quiet as always. “It wasn’t your fault. It was that bastard’s fault for taking advantage of you.” 

Klaus will always have Ben. He will always love Ben.

Ben probably doesn’t love him back, though. 

Klaus is bathed in the red. The red of the blood, his blood, Ben’s blood, the disgusting, evil, dark,  _ red _ feeling churning in his stomach, the red stop lights. 

Red.

Green.

Yellow.

Red.

Stop.

Go. 

Slow down. 

Stop. 

 


	4. Afterburn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pain. It makes him forget. And he deserves to forget. To forget forget. Everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a headcanon that klaus never really got over him being kidnapped by hazel and cha-cha. and, that, even though he can summon dave, he still loves ben. that even if dave was still alive, he wouldn't turn away from his and ben's built-up relationship, because it took so long for them to come to terms with their feelings for each other.

_ “Dave!” _

_ “Dave!” _

_ “DAVE!” _

_ “DAVE!” _

Klaus shot up from his place in the bathtub, turning off the water and gasping for air. The lights were flashing. He blinked furiously before lying back down into the water. 

_ Helicopters. _

_ Gunfire. _

_ Explosions. _

_ Blood. Oh, God, so much blood. So many ghosts. Too many. Dave. Dave! _

_ Dave…. _

The water eased from hot to lukewarm quickly, and when he had enough energy he drained it and went to his room to dress himself. 

His head fucking  _ hurts.  _ Like someone-

“Shoved a box of cotton up your nose and into your brain.” Five knew.  _ Of course he fucking knew, he’s the expert.  _ Klaus sighs. “Where did you go? Or, should I say when?”

“Why does it matter?”

 

_ Forward, reverse! _

_ Forward, reverse! _

_ Forward. Reverse! _

_ It rings in his head like an echo. God, these people have been doing this thing for decades. Killing people. How is he not dead yet? Hazel. Cha-Cha. Coldblooded killers that can’t kill a high-as-fuck junkie. Or, was high-as-fuck. Now he’s just a junkie. _

_ Forward. Reverse! _

_ Footsteps are clacking outside. Muffled through the wall, he isn’t sure that it isn’t the janitor before he decided to turn around, move his chair to the table and start banging his head against it as hard as he can without cracking his skull open. The person forward, reverses, and opens the door quietly. The lady cop. _

_ “Are you Diego’s brother?” He nods frantically, not wanting to wonder why Diego, of all of his siblings, would want to save him.  _

_ She cuts him free of the duct tape and he gestures the assassins in the bathroom. _

_ He sneaks through the vent, taking some random clothes and a briefcase (briefcase?), and gets the fuck out of there. He hears one ominous, ringing gunshot. He hopes that it was Lady cop who shot Cha-Cha. But not Hazel. He has some hope. _

_ Forward, reverse! _

_ Forward. Reverse!  _

 

He flushes his drugs down the toilet. He doesn’t quite know why. Subconsciously, he knows that it’s because Dave wouldn’t want him to destroy himself. Anymore, at least. 

Subconsciously, he knows that Ben wouldn’t want that either. 

There were a lot of ghosts when he was back in ‘Nam. Most were soldiers. Some were families, innocent moms, dads, children that got caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were just kids. Just kids. 

Just kids. 

He thinks of all of the lives lost in war. If children, what would they have done if they hadn’t died? Would they have invented something great? Would they, if little girls, had given birth unexpectedly and unpregnant on October first, 1989? Would they have kept them, if they had?   
Or, would they have started yet another war? Killed thousands?  _ Millions?  _

When he went back in time, did that save any lives? The Butterfly Effect and all that shit?

His arms tingled for the feeling of a lit cigarette. Without drugs, it had to be burning. Cutting. Self-harm in general took his mind away from the dead, focusing on the pain took them away. 

He knew that Ben did it. He tried very,  _ very  _ hard to not let Klaus know about it, but the clairvoyant can read a person as easily as Ben can read a five-hundred page book.

He knew that he couldn’t stop it. Some force stopped him from doing it; Ben’s well being? If he stopped him, he might do something more extreme than self-harm. Or, was it the understanding that he couldn’t stop it? Klaus knew that nobody would be able to stop  _ him,  _ at least, he thinks so. 

 

_ “What’s that supposed to be?” Klaus pointed to a doodle on the page Ben was drawing on. Just a creature. A ball of all sorts of animal limbs, tentacles, arms, legs, tails, eyes, teeth, wings, fins, claws. _

_ “You ask a lot of questions, Klaus.” Ben glanced at him irritatingly, giving him the stink-eye. Klaus pouted his lips, sad puppy dog eyes glistened, and Ben frowned. He sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell you what it is if,” he paused. _

_ “If I what, Benji?” _

_ Ben looked up, blank expression, so straight-faced as he said this: “If you kiss me.” _

_ Needless to say, Klaus gets an explanation for what it is. It’s Them. The Them inside Ben. And They have a fun night with him and Klaus.  _

 

The drugs prevented him from asking too many questions, sometimes. Except for ‘Hey, Diego, you going anywhere?’ or, ‘Hey, Allison, you have any nail polish I can use?’

Both always replied with a ‘No,’ and pushed him aside, not wanting anything to do with him. It’s funny, though. With Father dead and gone, they are starting to act like they care all of a sudden.

 

_ They were all standing by the door. Staring, staring, staring. Staring with their dark, sad, beady little eyes at Klaus. Klaus, who just walked through the door. _

_ One, two, three, four, fi- four? _

_ Where’d Six go? _

_ Where’s Ben? _

_ “Klaus, we’re so, so sorry for what happened.” Allison’s eyes were tearing up. Klaus looked away to the others, who stared at him in varying stages of pity. _

_ “What?” Luther peered at him disbelievingly, shocked and hurt.  _

_ “Ben died yesterday. Don’t you remember?” Klaus blinked. And suddenly, he wasn’t in the Academy anymore. He was on the street, being pulled back by Luther and Diego, yelling, screaming, Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben! Someone stabbed Luther, someone got him to let go. Someone is yelling at him to stop running towards the library, it’s about to explode, Klaus- _

_ “Oh.” _

_ “Oh?” _

_ “I’m going to get a drink.” _

 

He rolled up the cuffs of his pants.

The first cut was hard, God, he hasn’t done this for a long time. Sober, at least.

He deserves it.

The second was a little easier, slicing through his flesh like a knife through butter. Eventually, he was stuck in the same pattern as before. Cut, pause, clean, repeat. Cut, pause, clean, repeat. Forward, reverse! Forward. Reverse!

He deserves it.

Dave!  _ Dave! _

He knew when to stop. Right before passing out, as always. The back of his calves were lined with angry red scars, some still bleeding heavily. After he cleaned them, hissing profanities when he touched them with the alcohol, he stood up and began walking throughout the house, like a lost puppy. His legs throbbed in protest when they hit the ground, but he deserves it. The pain. It makes him forget. And he deserves to forget. To  _ forget  _ forget. Everything. Forgetting everything seems very appealing right now. 

So does some vodka.

He wanders across Diego in the halls, and like always, he has to ask him the question that really matters.

"Come one, man, you know I can't drive!"

"I don't c-"

“Okay, great, I'll just get my things, two minutes." He claps and heads back upstairs to change his clothes yet again, and to retrieve the glass bottle of expensive, authentic Russian vodka from the cabinet in the bar.

He pushes the self-degrading thoughts out of his head. And gets in the  _ fucking  _ car before he changes his mind. 

_ “Dave!”  _ The calls of Dave echo in his mind. He tries his best to ignore it. 

_ “Dave!” _

_ “Dave!” _

_ “Dave!” _

_ “Dave!”  _


	5. Gunfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sharp claws of panic gripped his stomach tightly, seizing it in it’s vice and twisting his organs. It’s paws closed around his throat, blocking his airways in an extremely not-sexual way. It widened his eyes with it’s fingers, peeling them open, keeping them opened for the horrible sight in front of him to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> klaus' ptsd-induced panic attack is based off of what i go through when i have an attack.

“Look, you wanna be number one? Fine. But you’re gonna have to get us on the same page because right now, we’re all over the place.” A moment of anticipating silence filled their area. Klaus and Allison looked at each other as Diego and Luther had a stare-off.  _ Two complete morons, in charge? Okay, Dad. That really worked out for you. _

“You’re right. We need a plan,” Luther said. Now they all looked at each other, as if they were extracting ideas from their eyes. 

And right then, all of a sudden, three gas-masked individuals popped in, they all looked at each other in a split second, and started shooting. It was almost slow-motion. Luther, Diego, Allison and Klaus ducked quickly and hunkered down under the tables. 

“Who the hell are these guys?” Diego yelled over the noise, straining his voice painfully.

Klaus covered his ears. “Maybe they’re here for  _ Kenny’s birthday!”  _ Allison gave him a look that was very similar to her saying “What the fuck did you just say?” 

He could see things. He knows he can. He just didn’t see what was real. He closed, opened his eyes. Blinked.  _ What the fuck? Where am I?  _

But he knows where he his. Dark, rainy, foresty areas? Being sheltered by nothing but a log and a few leaves? Humid clinging to his skin, yelling over gunfire, Dave-

_ Dave. Oh, god, Dave. Dave! Medic! Medic! _

The sharp claws of panic gripped his stomach tightly, seizing it in it’s vice and  _ twisting  _ his organs. It’s paws closed around his throat, blocking his airways in an extremely not-sexual way. It widened his eyes with it’s fingers, peeling them open, keeping them opened for the horrible sight in front of him to be seen. 

The whistle of Diego’s knife as it went flying turned into a firework-like sound,  _ peeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww-CRASH  _ in the distance, exploding, tearing up the trees and the grass and the dirt underneath it. Saturday Night started playing, the sharp staccato beating into his skull and bringing him back to the present. He took a few deep breaths and did a quick survey of the bowling alley- _ not the war, not Vietnam, not Vietnam- _ the armed gas-masks were blocking the exits.

Luther threw a few bowling balls, taking their heads with them to the ground. Diego had his knives, each one lodging far into their skulls. Klaus grabbed a grenade- _ cake- _ cake and threw it at one of their heads, sending it down with frosting messing up their goggles. 

“They’re blocking the exit!”

“So what’s the plan now, Luther?!”

Allison poked him in the side and pointed to the pinsetters, and everyone else seemed to have the same idea. 

And they ran, like chickens, from the gunfire, from the explosions, from the bowling balls and the cake-grenades and the gas-masks. 

Ben was at the back door, ushering them out hurriedly. “Go, Klaus, run,  _ faster.”  _ And, dammit, if he wasn’t going as fast as he could right now, he would have fucking ran  _ faster.  _

 

“So, what’s the plan?” Klaus was hyped up, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Enough for him to be high right now. Enough for him to take down a fucking elephant. Enough for him to take down  _ Luther.  _ And that’s saying something, right there.

“Uh, you, wait out front.” But, of course, Luther has to ruin that for him.

“What?”

“Yeah, you’re the lookout,” Luther said. He sounded like he was talking to a toddler, or that Klaus was slow, which definitely he was  _ not.  _

_ “The lookout?”  _

Klaus wilts, and Luther and Diego go to absolutely ruin Allison’s plan.

 

He and Ben are sitting outside the auditorium doors, being  _ the lookout.  _ Ben is leaning on the wall to Klaus’ left. He looks at him. “You’re looking a little green. Are you gonna puke?” Klaus furrows his eyebrows and sarcastically smiles up at the ghost. 

“Yes. I’m going to puke all over you, and your clothes will be fucking trashed. Oh, wait,” Klaus stands up and stretches his arms to the air. Ben scowled at him. He didn’t bother to give another remark, and Ben bit one back.

He really did feel sick. The beating of his heart had reached his head, a bass drum stabbing it’s way into his brain. His limbs were weak and shaky, and his legs were pulsing in pain from the cuts. He ached all over, but until Hell freezes over, there is no way he would tell that to anyone.

“I’m feeling quite peckish as of now, Ben.” There was a food truck across the road. “Let’s go get a burrito.”

 

He sees Cha-Cha, bloodied, beaten up, but he is scared. He hears the gunshots, and he’s even more scared. Terrified. His heartbeat gets faster, gets louder in his head. Over the blood rushing in his ears, Ben yells that the gas-masks are in the building. The pounding in his head gets worse still. 

“Come on, we’re the damn lookouts!” He throws the burrito to the side and sprints into the trees-the  _ doors,  _ the  _ doors-  _ and he skips the stairs three at a time. He bursts through the entrance.

“Hey guys! The-” bullets came screaming towards him and he ducked quickly, his heart leaping up his throat and to his mouth. His mouth was dry, like all of the moisture was sucked out of there, like he had eaten a handful of sand. He feels like he’s going to puke his organs all onto the floor beneath his feet.  His eyes might fall out, his brain will be smashed and leak out of his ears. The panic came back again, squeezing his lungs until they burst. Nails digging into his scalp, maybe his own, tore at his hair until it was in clumps on the carpet. He wanted to crawl into a corner, curl up into the tightest ball imaginable, and  _ vanish.  _

Nobody would know if he was gone, anyway.

The panic flew through his body, then, like a dragon, whipped it’s tail into his face and leaving a mark there. Stinging still. It heightened, and soon, it reached it’s peak. He was trembling furiously all over, his eyes couldn’t look in one place, his fingers wouldn’t stay still. He didn’t know if his eyes were closed, but he couldn’t see. If he was saying anything, he didn’t hear it. All he could hear was gunfire and explosions and  _ Dave!Dave!Dave!Dave! _

And then, his heart was at rest, he stopped trembling, he could open his eyes. His hands were clenched into fists.

And they started  _ glowing.  _


	6. Warm Orange Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s hyperaware of everything; the fabric of his vest is scratching against his sweaty skin unpleasantly, his pants are too tight, his shoes are biting into his toes. The glass is fogging up with smoke, he’s breathing it in, it’s clogging his throat. It’s mucking up his vocal cords, and now he can’t speak. He can’t breath. He can’t breath in here. He. Can’t. Breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has a happy ending, i promise, you'll see.   
> also, i was listening to the pentatonix cover of hallelujah while writing this, i suggest you listen while reading.

Laughter filled Vanya’s apartment on that day. The sun wasn’t shining, but then again, it was always cloudy there. But the lights were on, offering them their own little pocket of bright yellow-orange in the cool evening. The crescent moon in the far distant sky shone a pearly shade of light gray. The TV was on for white noise. In the background, Vanya could hear Diego, Five and the newly resurrected Ben talking in the small corner of the dining room. She and Allison were exchanging comments and jokes, not mentioning Luther, who wasn’t there. 

The phone ringing pierced through the quiet chatter sharply, getting everyone’s attention. It rang thrice before Allison goes to answer it, twirling the curly wire between her index and middle fingers. 

They froze, for a moment, and her eyes widened. “Okay, just calm down. I’ll be right there. Where are you?” He reaches to the table for her inseparable pad of paper, and writes something down on it. By now, everyone is staring at her in concern. Five’s eyebrows furrowed and his put his drink down to straighten his suit. “Okay, I’m coming to you, just stay where you are, okay?” She paused, listening to the other person on the phone. “Do you… do you want me to bring Ben?” That’s when people start stirring. She nods. “Okay, I won’t, I promise. Anyone else?” She nods again. “Okay, no-one else. Alright. I promise, Klaus.” Allison hangs up and looks at the others. “Klaus is by a payphone just down the road. He’s in trouble. But,” she interrupts Diego from going out and getting him. “He doesn’t want anyone else to go but me and Vanya.”

But Ben is already halfway down the hall. 

 

Klaus is in the booth of a payphone, and he can’t breath. At least, he feels like he can’t breath. The icy grip of fear, terror has yet again got him in it’s hold. The walls were closing in, becoming darker, becoming cement and not metal. Names etched onto them blurred before him. Too close,  _ too close.  _ The phone is hanging by it’s wire, by his head. It keeps hitting the wall, emitting a loud  _ bang,  _ or  _ snap  _ with it every time. 

**_Klaaaauuuuuuusssssssssssssssssssssss…….._ **

**_Kllllllaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuusssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss_ **

**_Klaus!_ **

**_Klaus!_ **

**_Help us!KlausHelpUsKlausHelpUsKlausHelpUs_ **

“Just fucking stop, already, please!? Let me take a  _ fucking breather!”  _ He couldn’t breath. Fuck. He presses his fingers to his temples and gasps in and out shakily. He’s hyper-aware of everything; the fabric of his vest is scratching against his sweaty skin unpleasantly, his pants are too tight, his shoes are biting into his toes. The glass is fogging up with smoke, he’s breathing it in, it’s clogging his throat. It’s mucking up his vocal cords, and now he can’t speak. He can’t breath.  _ He can’t breath in here. He. Can’t. Breath. _

There’s knocking on the metal box, echoing, making him shrink further into the booth. “Klaus, it’s Ben. You’re safe. I’m here for you.” He shrinks again. There are broken murmurs outside the door, and he wants to scream for help at the same time of wanting to stay quiet. 

“Allison and Vanya. Only Allison and Vanya. Just Allison and Vanya,” he whispers. He doubts anyone heard him, though. 

“Hey, Klaus? I’m sorry. I know you only called for Allie and Van. But, I thought it was best if I tagged along.” There is a dragging, scraping noise on the booth and he snapped his eyes shut, clapping his hands to his ears and whimpers for it to stop.  _ Too loud, too loud, too loud.  _ Too fucking loud!

He doesn’t realize that he shouted it aloud until Ben replies. “Okay, okay, it’s okay, Klaus. I’ll- we’ll quiet down for you. It’s gonna be alright, okay?” He whines, shuffling towards the door and resting his head against the coolness, easing his headache. His eyes are still glued shut, his hands shaking in his lap. 

“He hears the muffled murmurs of Allison, Vanya and Ben outside again. And then it is silent for a long while. Too long.  **_Klaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuusssssssssssssssss………….?_ **

There is movement going on inside, and Ben steps away from the door to let Klaus open it. His eyes are bloodshot and teary, some trickling down his face slowly. He grips onto the edges of the entrance as though he is going to fall without the support. His face is ashen, a deadly shade of pale gray to match the moon. His crimson lips are bitten and cracked, blood leaking out of a particularly damaged spot. Dark, depressed bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway that something is definitely wrong.

“K-Keep talking,  _ please,  _ Ben,” he lets go of the rim and collapses into Ben’s arms, who hugs him tightly against his warm body. Shuddering breaths are coming in gasps into his chest, and his shirt starts to grow a little wet, but he doesn’t really care.

“Okay, okay,  _ shh, shh,  _ Klaus, it’s okay. You’re still here.  _ I’m  _ still here.  _ We  _ are all still here.” All four of them stand there for a minute, Vanya standing awkwardly by the side and Allison giving Klaus a back rub. He sobs harder into Ben’s chest, clenching the soft material of his shirt into his fists.

Once he settles down some, they load into the car (although it was a short distance, they all knew that Klaus wasn’t going to walk, no matter the circumstances) and drive back to Vanya’s apartment. Klaus leans heavily on Ben for support, tired and worn-out from the anxiety attack. Fingernails dig into his neck, but, again, he doesn’t care.

Diego and Five were on it when they were away. They had turned off the large lights, preferring some lamps instead. Fairy lights were strung throughout the house, wherever those came from. They pushed the coffee table to where it was perpendicular to the couch and the fireplace, and in the empty space they made a pile of pillows and blankets on the hardwood flooring. On the table were six mugs of hot chocolate.

Who knew that the ex-assassin and the soldier could be so fuzzy at times? 

Diego closes around Klaus in a hug, and Five gives him a sympathetic smile before going ahead and sitting on the couch to drink his hot drink. 

Allison gets situated with Vanya, wriggling around until they find a place on the floor that is remotely comfortable. Diego takes a place on the couch, next to Five, and Ben and Klaus join the girls on the floor. They leave the hottest hot chocolate, and the squishiest pillow, and the softest blanket, and the warmest person with Klaus, spoiling him all too much, but he deserves it. 

His shoulders are drawn up to his head in insecurity, but he drowns in their treatment. He looks in the corner at Dave, who is watching him, and smiling. 

_ “You aren’t mad that I’m with Ben?” _

_ “I’m happy that you’re happy, Klaus. Nothing will ever change that.” _

_ “....You know I still love you right? Just, not…” _

_ “Just not in that way. I completely understand.” _

He smiles back at Dave, leans into Ben as Vanya leans into him and Allison leans onto her. Five eventually falls to sleep, the countless sleepless nights catching up to him in due time. Diego stays awake the longest, keeping an eye on his  _ family,  _ before he, too, drifts to sleep.

 

And there Klaus was, snuggled into the warmth of his family, and he dreams. He dreams of Five, and Vanya, and Allison, and Diego, and Ben, and Dave. 

This time, Dave is by a white, shining light. He’s telling him to turn around, so he does. 

This time, instead of going towards the cold, white light, he is engulfed with warm orange flame. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end of it, guys!  
> told you it had a happy ending!  
> also, i love all of your comments, they give me life. and reassurance that i'm good (?) at writing. see you next chap. peace out!


End file.
